


love. angel. music. baby.

by calcelmo



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e14 Innocence, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Season 2, Spoilers, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27661744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo
Summary: Angelus comes back. Naturally, they slip into the old routine.
Relationships: Angelus/Drusilla (BtVS), Angelus/Drusilla/Spike (BtVS), Angelus/Spike (BtVS), Drusilla/Spike (BtVS)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	love. angel. music. baby.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlpire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlpire/gifts).



> HI so we have never spoken before - I've read a bunch of your fics recently and I think you are a really underrated and amazing author! I hope you like the gift, but if not, I'll remove it of course.
> 
> Title comes from Gwen Stefani's 2004 album of the same name - I was listening to Hollaback Girl on repeat the entire time I was writing this but the lyrics were just... not fitting

Joy hits him like a stake through the heart. This time, it’s genuine, not the false cheer he’d summoned to convince  _ Angel _ he couldn’t sense the soul in him, far too hot and unnaturally bright. This is different. This isn’t some shadow or empty husk of the demon that had fostered them. It's the real thing, and while they'd mocked it and condemned it, they lay staring at the stars, hand-in-hand, silently wishing he was there to complete them. 

Spike thought he’d be alright, that he could bury the bond, kick dirt over it and spit on his sire’s name. But his heart lies in his throat, clenched around dizzying relief, blood singing -  _ he’s back, he’s back, he’s home.  _

His gaze slides over to Dru, sees the equal, undisguisable adoration in her eyes, the way her whole body is drawn to him like a magnet. Quivering, with instinctual fear - like her body remembers, but it’s a distant memory to her, just on the periphery; what Angelus did to make her his.

Falling into old habits is inevitable. Spike thinks they might have spent more time inside each other than out, in some way or other. As is natural instinct, and his own brand of unparalleled sadism, their sire wants to re-mark his territory, reclaim his possessions. And he starts with this.

Angelus fucks her squealing and purring into satin sheets, with a fistful of her hair pulled taut at the scalp, the other pressing a claiming bruise into the back of her thigh where the shape of her dips down from her buttocks. 

Spike grits his teeth and watches. Saliva leaks from the corner of his mouth, between one fang, and he dabs at it with a sleeve; bitter, hateful. He won't be a silent partner.

This is a familiar sight, but instead of déjà vu, it only seems to invoke a sick cocktail of nostalgia and desire; with raging jealousy topping it like a cherry. Drusilla is his and he is hers. But he was a fool to believe they could ever escape the tie that binds them.

“I never should have left you,” Angelus whispers, and Dru howls her agreement into the pillows, clawing talons against the mattress that he drives her into, sinking teeth into her pallid skin while he jerks forward and comes inside her. She chants his name like a mantra, before it dissolves into tearful laughter. 

Spike is painfully hard. There’s no point in hiding it. When you’ve known someone for a lifetime, all it takes is a glance and you’re just a page in a book.

Uncharacteristically gently, Angelus lets his cock slip free from Dru’s cunt, and he catches her jaw to pull her into a brief, pleased kiss. She looks a dream; fucked-out and glassy-eyed like a doll. Spike’s dead heart seizes with possessive hunger.

Angelus slides off the bed to stand, unconcerned by his nudity. He talks as if this is nothing but pleasant conversation, but he’s kneeling and undoing the buttons on Spike’s shirt, slipping it off his shoulders, letting his hands linger, laughing at the tension he meets there - and then, he moves to Spike’s zipper, tilts his head and looks him in the eye as he trails a finger up to tease the length of Spike’s erection. His knuckles go whiter on the chair, and it takes effort to remain passive, curious, tolerant; instead of betraying his spiralling control, his need to reconnect. 

“Want you to fuck my come into her,” Angelus says, smiling sweetly. Spike’s sneering mask slips, just for a moment, eyes darkening like a cat’s. Dru, animated, drapes herself across his lap, bracing herself on his wheelchair and bringing her cunt to hover over his cock. He can’t help but spread her labia, run a finger over her swollen little clit to see her gasp and twitch. Her sire’s seed drips from her slick pussy onto the head of Spike’s prick, and he lets out a hopeless, strangled sound.

Behind him, strong hands close around his biceps. “I missed you, too,” Angelus rasps against Spike’s pulse, before his teeth tear into flesh and hot blood spills out onto his tongue. Dru seats herself and sighs, content, wrapping her arms around Spike’s neck, her breasts pressing against his chest, fucking him like it’s the first time instead of the thousands.

“Say it back,” prompts their sire, purposefully ghosting the breath he doesn’t need across Spike’s spine; a hoarse warning that makes the younger vampire’s whole body shudder.

“No,” he manages. His hold on Dru’s delicate waist gets tighter, vice-like. “We were fine without you.” 

“Tell the truth, Spike,” Dru scolds him, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. She draws blood, and he tastes it, coppery and thin.

“I  _ won’t-” _

His snarl is cut off when Angelus grabs a handful of his hair, pulling hard, to yank his head back, exposing the puncture wounds on his neck. He forces some twisted approximation of a kiss, cramming his tongue so far down Spike’s throat that he thinks he’ll choke on it, tightening his grip on his hair, thumb pressing into his windpipe.

Spike falls over the edge, and his hatred goes with it, leaving him shaky and empty. All he can think is  _ why did we ever stop doing this?  _ His come mixes with Angelus’, warm and wet inside his lover, whose tongue kitten-laps at his jugular.

Angelus slowly lets him go, but one hand hovers at the nape of his neck, grip firm and insistent, as if Spike is his child, lost and disobedient. In such close proximity, with every part of him exposed, the metaphor suddenly seems too close to the truth. 

“Look at me,” Angelus murmurs.

Spike opens his eyes, trying to mask his turmoil, trying not to shy away. Although he’s ashamed, emasculated; he sees the vicious pride in his sire’s gaze, directed at him, at Dru; at his children. And now all the years apart make no difference. Spike is addicted again.

**Author's Note:**

> And to everyone else who read this fic - I hope you enjoyed it too, please let me know your thoughts in the comments <3


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